


Scratch Track

by Cyborgtamaki, thirteeninafez



Series: Through the Rift [2]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Episode AU: s01e14 The Christmas Invasion, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28322142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyborgtamaki/pseuds/Cyborgtamaki, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirteeninafez/pseuds/thirteeninafez
Summary: Ianto Jones' body sits slumped on a satellite one hundred thousand years in the future; the pile of dust in front of him is the only evidence of the monsters that had killed him.The Doctor lies in a bed in London in 2006, dressed in the clothes of a man who eats tangerines in bed, with a new face and a new mind.Jack Harkness is bound to the earth, to the present, as he strains to return to the man he lost amongst the stars, the man that is his past and will be his future.Rose Tyler struggles to deal with the loss of her best friend, the man she knew completely changing into a stranger, and the tension straining her friendship with the Captain.Miles away, a space probe bumps into a meteor. And is swallowed whole.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: Through the Rift [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796905
Comments: 96
Kudos: 157





	1. The Christmas Crash Landing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: Rose and Mickey go Christmas Shopping

When the Tardis materialized over London, the first thing she did was sail straight past the window of a council flat. Fortunately for the panicked group inside the ship (and the overall sanity of the occupants of said flat) no one saw, as the only person sitting in the living room that the window looked into was a young woman called Trisha Delaney, who was rather more preoccupied with bitching on the phone about how her ‘boyfriend’ hadn’t called her back for three days. 

However close a call the Tardis was to that window, she wasn’t quite as lucky, as she continued to careen down the road the buildings corralled her along. A chunk of concrete fell down to the ground below as she clipped the corner of the Powell Estate; a full crash was only narrowly averted by the Captain inside working on autopilot in an attempt to save the one friend he knew he still had left. 

A silver ball rolled across the metal grating, only stopped by a wedged-in shard of a plain black coffee mug, one of many shards that were now scattered across the platform.

The Captain ignored them; his boot soles were too thick for them to cut his feet and  he wasn’t about to let any of them worm further into his heart. He focused instead on keeping his hands busy, on protecting the girl hunched over in the jumpseat. God knows the man across from him, wearing his friend’s leather jacket, too loose on the shoulders and dropping almost to his fingers, wasn’t in a state to help. He was whirling around the console, looking more like he was grabbing things for support than to aid in their flight path. 

There was a jolt; they’d hit another building.

This one sent the ship whirling through the air, spinning wildly as she scraped along the asphalt. She jostled her way up onto the pavement before coming to a neat, but no less jarring stop, wedged between a skip and a recycling bin.

Exactly where she had landed over six months before, a year after a girl with blonde hair and a blinding smile had run away with a mad man in a box.

Across the estate, a young man looked up from work, dragged out of his concentration by a whisper on a breeze in a way that the incessant and shrill sound of his ringtone never did. The woosh of engines filtered in over the christmas music that was now too loud, too  _ in the way _ . He couldn’t hear it properly; it would be just another false hope dashed when he ran round the corner and found the street to be empty.

Only this time it wasn’t.

He had to skid to a stop to avoid crashing into the woman fast approaching him. The engines were getting louder and louder, but there was no sign of the distinctive blue ship on this street or any other.

Until suddenly, there was.

It toppled from the building above, spinning wildly before crash landing in the same spot as the young man had seen it last.

It took barely a second for the door to bang open and a man, younger than the previous pilot, stepped out into the street, looking around as though he was appraising the grimy area they’d landed in. The t-shirt and jacket he was in hung off his wiry frame, far too big, like it was made to fit someone else. The young man recognised it immediately; this wasn’t it’s true owner.

“Here we are then, London. Earth. The Solar System. We did it.” When this stranger’s eyes dropped to the pair standing in front of him, his face broke out into a wide, almost manic, grin. “Jackie. Mickey. Blimey!” He moved forward to hug them both, but caught himself, a hand landing hard on the young man, Mickey’s, shoulder. “No, no, no, no, hold on. Wait there. I've got something to say. There was something I had to tell you, something important. What was it?”

Mickey opened his mouth to say something but the stranger waved his hand in the man’s face, effectively shutting him up. “No, hold on, hold on.”

Neither of them moved but the stranger got more irate anyway, flapping his hands about wildly. The sleeves of his shirt wormed their way down over his palms like a child. “Hold on, shush, shush, shush, shush.” He paused, staring deep into the woman’s eyes, then bounced up onto his toes and clapped. “Oh, I know! Merry Christmas!”

And with those festive words, all the manic energy drained from him as he finally crumpled under the weight of the heavy jacket.

“What happened?” Rose scurried out of the Tardis, kneeling next to the prone body lying on the cold concrete. She looked up at her mother and Mickey. “Is he alright?”

Mickey shrugged, eyes wide and bewildered. “Dunno, he just keeled over. But who is he? Where’s the Doctor? And Ianto?”

Rose’s face twisted suddenly with grief, and she took a shaky breath before opening her mouth to reply. The low creak of the Tardis door opening cut her off and the three turned their heads to look at the figure standing half in the shadows cast by the light behind him.

“That’s him. That’s the Doctor.” 

Jack’s voice wasn’t cold, but it was empty. He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather trousers. They were too small to be particularly effective in any way, far from practical. Ianto would hate wearing them, no matter how good he would– the thought wrenched itself to an abrupt stop like a train screeching along it’s tracks. It didn’t matter what Ianto thought about the pants. He wasn’t around to care. 

Jackie was asking him something. Mickey was peering round his shoulder into the emergency lit Tardis console room, searching for something– or someone. His vision blurred slightly. He blinked quickly to clear it and watched as they dropped back from him to take care of the Doctor. 

Rose and Jackie were still in the guest bedroom with the man that was supposedly the Doctor. They’d been in the guest bedroom for nearly an hour. Nearly an hour that should’ve been spent doing something  _ useful _ . 

He’d been in the same spot for all of that almost hour, leant against the wall with his arms crossed and hands clenched into fists so tight that his short nails dug into his palms. Jackie came out of the room twice during that time, first returning with a set of men’s pyjamas, then a stethoscope; Jack didn’t know or care where she’d found it. Each time she passed him, she glanced at him. It was the only acknowledgement anyone was giving to the elephant in the room, the missing man that, as far as Jackie knew, he had replaced. 

Jackie was exactly like both Rose and Ianto had described. A force of nature that Jack was sure, in any other situation, would ream into every part of his personality. As it were, she kept it to the surtive, suspicious glances that made him feel uncomfortably like she already knew everything she needed to know about him by the way he was standing. 

Mickey had left. Almost as soon as they’d gotten the Doctor into bed, he’d claimed that he had to get back to work before he was fired, but that he’d try to beg the rest of the day off; he was going to claim a family emergency. 

Jack was about to do the same if he had to stare at that closed bedroom door for much longer.

When the door opened, it wasn’t any better. Rose kept her eyes down as she passed her mother and headed to the kitchen. She didn’t even look at Jack’s feet. It was like if she could forget he was there, she could forget the man-sized hole next to him that used to be her best friend. That’s what Jack thought anyways. 

Jackie followed after Rose and fixed him with a hard stare. “Are you going to stand there all bloody day?”

Jack started at the sudden attention, but trailed after the two Tyler women sheepishly. He split away when they reached the kitchen, instead venturing into the living room through the open door. He perched on the edge of the worn couch, hands twisting in circles around themselves. It was silent in this room, quiet enough that he could hear the voices filtering in through the closed window that separated the living room and kitchen. 

“How can he go changing his face? Is that a different face or is he a different person?”

“How should I know?” Rose’s snappy reply was followed by the slamming of the fridge door, then by a well known sigh. “Sorry.” There was a pause. “The thing is, I thought I knew him, Mum. I thought me and him were... And then he goes and does this. I keep forgetting he's not human.” Then, as sudden as the snap of a heavy book being shut, she changed topics. “The big question is where'd you get a pair of men's pyjamas from?”

“Howard’s been staying…” Jack let the voices drift out of his mind once the topic changed. He couldn’t bring himself to care all too much about which market stall owner was sleeping with his friend’s mother.

The TV in the corner was scrolling through the local news broadcast, pictures flickering silently across the screen. The remote was just about poking out from where it was wedged between the couch cushions; one good yank and Jack was able to unmute the TV, just as it cut to a pre-recorded interview at Downing Street.

“Is that Harriet Jones?” Rose asked as she barged into the living room, leaving Jackie muttering under her breath in the kitchen. Rose ignored her. “Why’s she on the telly?”

Jackie leant against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “She's Prime Minister now. I'm eighteen quid a week better off. They're calling it Britain's Golden Age. I keep on saying my Rose has met her.” 

Rose scoffed, looking at the woman on the TV fondly. “Did more than that. Stopped World War Three with her. Harriet Jones.”

Jack couldn’t help the way his head whipped around to stare at Rose. “You know Harriet Jones?  _ The  _ Harriet Jones?”

Rose nodded and excitement took over the worry etched over her face. For a second everything was back to normal between them. “The same day as Ianto and the–” She pulled up short and it was clear why as her face crumpled. The awkward fog of grief settled between them once again, the silence cut only by the babble of the TV set.

“–those calling the Guinevere One Space Probe a waste of money?”

Rose tore her eyes away from Jack’s. He refocused on the woman talking. “Now, that's where you're wrong. I completely disagree if you don't mind. The Guinevere One Space Probe represents this country's limitless ambition. British workmanship sailing up there among the stars.”

The picture cut to one of the stars spread out across a dark sky. The 3D rendering of the space probe drifted across the screen, slowly coming more into focus. “This is the spirit of Christmas, birth and rejoicing, and the dawn of a new age, and that is what we're achieving fifteen million miles away. Our very own miracle. The unmanned probe Guinevere One is about to make its final descent. Photographs of the Martian Landscape should be received by midnight tonight.”

The knock beat loud and irregular against the front door. Jack’s heart leapt instantly into his throat with stupid,  _ stupid _ hope, dashed as soon as his brain caught up to it. The resounding thud of his heart dropping to his boots hurt more than he thought it could. 

And then the front door opened, without anyone even calling ‘come in’ and it somehow sunk lower. 

The mug in front of him (no blue and white stripes, but pink with small white hearts) was full of cold tea. 

His hands were still wrapped around said mug. At first it had burnt, then cooled to a pleasant warmth. Now he was sure the porcelain was sucking the warmth out of his skin. 

He looked up when Rose walked past, shoulders wrapped in a warm coat he hadn’t seen her wear before. This, rather than anything else was what prompted him into action. He stood and the mug dropped an inch down onto the coffee table with a quiet clatter. The fact that not a drop spilt seemed to solidify the feeling that this entire day was like a dream.

But finally–  _ finally  _ they were going to do something other than sit around and wait for a stranger to wake up. “Where are you going?”

Rose looked just over his shoulder, eyes focused entirely on the framed photo behind him. “Out. Mickey’s taking me Christmas shopping.”

Jack paused, running through those words in his head. “Christmas shopping,” he asked flatly.

Rose nodded.

Jack’s head was reeling. A few hours ago, they had been fighting for their lives on a satellite full of the deadliest psychopaths in the universe. A few hours ago, the Doctor had been someone they recognised. A few hours ago, Ianto had been standing next to them and they’d been working together. 

And now Ianto is gone, the Doctor isn’t Northern and Rose wants to go  _ Christmas shopping _ like their lives weren’t crumbling around them. 

“Christmas shopping.” Anger bled into his voice. His hands felt empty without the mug between them. “You’re going Christmas shopping.”

“What else am I supposed to do, Jack?” Her voice was quiet and small, resigned as she expertly avoided catching his eye.

“No, no. Go ahead. Who are you buying for anyway?” Jack challenged. “Your mom, obviously. Something for Mickey. Going to splurge on whoever’s staying in your guest room, huh?” Rose flinched back, obviously hurt by the suggestion that that man wasn’t the Doctor; for all they knew, he wasn’t. Good. Rose should be hurt, instead of running around like everything was fine. 

“Don’t forget something for Ianto too.” His voice cracked slightly on the name. It felt as strange in his mouth as it had the first time he’d said it, stumbling out rather than rolling smoothly. 

His words struck Rose just as he’d intended them to. She took half a step back, expression flipping between anger and sadness until it finally settled somewhere in the middle. “Ianto’s gone, Jack.”

Jack shook his head. “No… No he isn’t. We just need to go back and then we can–”

“He’s dead! Ianto’s dead!” She paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. “He’s dead and he’s not coming back.” She finally met his gaze, glaring at him through eyes overflowing with tears. “Why can’t you understand that?”

“I saw him  _ move _ .” Jack’s voice came out pleading, even though he wasn’t sure what he was begging for. “I–”

“No, Jack.” Rose interrupted, but before she could even start her point, Jack was speaking again.

“You weren’t there, Rose.” He cut her off once again when she opened her mouth. “No. Whatever it was– the Bad Wolf– that wasn’t you. You don’t know what happened.”

“I  _ was _ there! I remember it all and I knew  _ everything! _ ” She dropped back down, retreating from where she had been pushing into Jack’s space. Her voice retreated with her, and when she next spoke it was nothing more than a whisper. “I knew he was dead. Before I even stepped on that Satellite.”

“But he  _ moved _ .”

“He didn’t! He didn’t move then and he’s never going to move again!” Rose’s words tumbled from her mouth in shaky gasps. “Ianto’s dead and the Doctor’s gone and I don’t know what I’m supposed to  _ do _ about it.”

“He’s not…” Jack whispered. “He can’t be…”

Rose stepped back further, all the fight draining out of her. She shook her head. It was only then that Jack noticed Mickey standing in the doorway, Jackie hovering behind him. They both swiftly moved away as Rose fled from the room, snagging her coat with one hand and Mickey’s arm with the other. 

Jackie’s exit was less dramatic. She slunk over to retrieve the cold mug before retreating to the kitchen with a level of silent unobtrusiveness that was expected from the stories he’d been told.

Jack was left, alone and bewildered, standing in a living room that he didn’t belong in, missing a man who was far too young to have become a ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!!! We're finally back! Life has gotten pretty hectic since the end of the last fic, at least on my end. It's been hard trying to write now that I'm in the full swing of uni again, but we're super excited to be back to posting this fic! Originally this fic was going to run from Christmas until New Year, posting four times, but we've had to push our posts down to once a week on Fridays.  
> This fic is all Lauren, but Remi is still reading and plotting and editing (plus writing their chapters for the third (3rd!!!!) fic in this series).  
> We hope you enjoy this fic just as much as everyone enjoyed Time Tracks, and that we can keep your attention through the sequels! This is the fun part where it Really starts to branch away from the canon series!  
> As always please chat to us in the comments and using our tumblrs: @garknessandbones and @thirteeninafez


	2. The Christmas Invasion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: Jack and Jackie decorate the Christmas Tree

It was cold and dark in the Tardis. 

That’s what Jack should’ve thought as he stepped back into the closest thing he had to a home. It was, in fact, so warm that he had to slip off his thin jacket. The warm lights were as bright as ever, casting an illuminating glow over the console. 

It had been such a long few days – he didn’t think he’d slept since before they’d ended up in those games – and he expected those days, those losses, to weigh heavy on the bones of the Tardis. Just like they weighed heavy on his own.

Asides from the human touches scattered like footsteps, the Tardis was fine. Not a scratch on her. The console had closed up seamlessly, and if Jack hadn't caught a glimpse of the golden tendrils when Rose had stepped back onto the Satellite, he would never have known it was possible. 

He checked everything over methodically. Nothing looked out of place or damaged, no more it’s usual ramshackle self. A part that looked suspiciously like the fuel cap of a 30th Century hovercraft hung loose in it’s socket, but didn’t get tighter when Jack turned it. He let it be.

The silver ball rattled when he picked it up, like whatever is inside had finally broken from all the bone-juddering landings it had experienced. Jack placed it back in the small dip in the console it usually resided in. The next quarter of an hour passed in much the same way. He picked up the shattered shards of abandoned mugs, moved jackets back into their respective bedrooms. Mind numbing work that slowly erased all signs of human touch from the console room. 

It looked as alien as it felt; without its residents to fill the space.

He looked up when the door creaked open, expecting to see Rose, or maybe Mickey. (A part of him - an unreasonable part, deep, deep down in him - half expected it to be Ianto). Instead, he was confronted with the sight of Jackie, armed with a plate of sandwiches and Walkers crisps.

She sucked in a breath when she stepped onto the ship. “Don’t think I’ll ever get used to this thing.”

Jackie shook her head and walked forwards slowly, as though it’s all an elaborate illusion and she’ll hit the back of the police box any second. Her shoulders relaxed when she realised that wasn’t going to happen, and it took her no time at all to make herself comfortable on the jumpseat next to Jack. The plate was set on his lap, leaving her hands free to curl around the thermos of tea she’d brought for herself. 

“Ham and cheese.” Jackie said as though Jack had asked. “Well, don’t go wasting it like you did my tea.”

Jack swallowed his embarrassment and scooped up one quarter quickly. “Why thank you.” He plastered his usual cocky smirk on but his heart wasn’t in it, and the sandwich was like wallpaper paste in his mouth. It didn’t stop the way Jackie preened ever so slightly, a flush creeping up her neck. 

The flush made him all the more surprised when he heard the next words from her mouth. “You know, I don’t like you very much.” 

Jack swallowed with some difficulty. “Sorry?” 

“Don’t be. I don’t like the Doctor much either.” 

Jack blinked a few times, staring at Jackie. She sipped her flask of tea before offering it to Jack. He shook his head slightly, never a big tea fan, but Jackie just glared until he took a tentative sip.

“Judging by the way you were yelling at my daughter, you’re not just Ianto’s replacement?”

Jack inhaled sharply, coughing as the tea went down the wrong pipe. “What? Why..?”

Jackie shrugged. “Rose comes back, the Doctor and a stranger in tow and no Ianto. What would you assume?”

Jack shrugged slightly, taking another bite. 

“Now Ianto, I liked him. The Doctor, he’s always dragging Rose into all these dangerous situations, but Ianto seemed like the one to get them out of them.” She paused. “And he made a great cuppa.”

That comment shocked a surprised laugh out of Jack. “You should’ve tried his coffee.”

The silence that followed wasn’t quite comfortable, but it was nowhere near as tense as it had been. Nevertheless, Jack busied himself with his sandwiches to avoid the awkwardness.

“How did he die?”

“He’s not -” Jack responded reflexively, but then he sighed. “Doing what he always does. Getting us out of a dangerous situation.” 

“Does it have to do with that time Rose showed up on her own?”

Jack glanced at her, then nodded. “The Doctor wanted her to be safe.”

“But she went back.”

Jack smiled ruefully. “She’s the only reason we’re not all dead.”

Jackie opened her mouth as though to ask something else, but then thought better of it.

There was a beat before she spoke again. “Ianto was a good lad. He was kind and unassuming. Let him be that in death too.” Jackie screwed the lid back on the now empty flask. “He wouldn’t want to be the reason Rose loses another friend.”

Jack wanted to argue with her, snap petulantly that  _ what did she know about Ianto, how dare she make these assumptions about a man she barely knew _ . Then he looked at her. He saw the tears swimming in her eyes and realised maybe they were closer than he thought. Maybe she was grieving more than just her own loss, but her daughter’s too. Jackie tucked the flask under her arm and pulled her jacket on, a clear sign that the conversation was over.

The plate of sandwiches was empty now, and Jack could no longer think of any reason to stay in the empty Tardis alone. 

Jackie stood and turned to him. “Well, come on then. You can help peel the potatoes for Christmas.”

Jackie refused to let Jack leave the Tardis until he’d changed into something that “didn’t reek of gunpowder and sweaty men. How long have you been wearing that t-shirt?” By the time he was dressed in a clean set of clothes and smelt as fresh as a daisy, Jackie and he had been in the Tardis for the better part of an hour. Just about enough time for Mickey and Rose to have gone down the road and picked up a new tree. At least, that was the best reason that Jackie could come up with to explain the wrapped up tree and box of baubles that sat outside the Tyler's front door. She said it with so much confidence that Jack didn’t even consider that it wasn’t the case. He’d come to regret dragging it inside and setting it up, pride of place, in the living room. But then again, hindsight is twenty/twenty.

Jack clapped his hands and stepped back, admiring their hard work on the tree. The star was a bit askew on the top but as Jackie’s only step stool had buckled under Jack, it was the best he could do. The little knitted frog Jackie had made (she’d picked up knitting while Rose was gone to pass the time, she’d told him as she hung it up) sat front and centre. 

“Looking good, Jacks.” Jack grinned at Jackie as she passed him yet another mug of tea. 

Her reply was cut off by the sound of the front door slamming back on its hinges. Rose and Mickey clattered down the hallway in a mess of limbs and frantic shouts. 

“Mum! Mum, why don’t you ever pick up your bloody phone?” Rose skidded around the corner.

Jackie frowned. “I was trying to get this bozo out from sulking in that silly blue box. Take your shoes off, you’re traipsing mud everywhere.”

Rose looked down at her shoes, perplexed by this sudden topic change. She appeared to shrug it off after a second. “Look, it doesn’t matter. We gotta get out. Where can we go?”

“My mate Stan,” Mickey said decisively. “He’ll put us up.”

Rose shook her head. “That's only two streets away.” She turned to Jackie. “What about Mo? Where's she living now?

“I don't know. Peak District.”

Jack looked between the members of this rapid fire conversation, unable to help but feel that he was missing something significant.

“Well, we'll go to cousin Mo's then.”

Jack put his hands up in an attempt to join the conversation. “Hold on. What’s–”

“No, it's Christmas Eve!” Jackie all but stopped her foot. “We're not going anywhere! What're you babbling about?”

Rose didn’t reply, staring over their shoulders.

“Rose,” Jack asked sharply, “What’s going on?”

“Mum.” Her voice was low but steady, the same tone as the Doctor when they had to deal with confused and terrified civilians. “Where'd you get that tree?”

They both looked over their shoulders at the freshly decorated tree in the corner of the living room.

Jack shrugged. “It was sitting outside when we came back up.”

“How can it be me?”

“Well, you went shopping.” Jackie snapped with a roll of her eyes. “We came back, and there it was! Assumed you didn’t want to drag it round all day.” 

“That wasn't me.”

“Then who was it?” 

Jack didn’t get his question answered. The small knitted frog landed with a thunk behind him and rolled until it hit the side of his boot. The lights twinkled in the corner of his eye, despite the fact that they weren’t yet plugged in. The heat emanating from them prickled against his neck. 

He grabbed Jackie’s arm, tugging her not all to gently away from the tree as it started to play Jingle Bells ominously into the tense room. He pushed her behind him, towards Mickey, as they rounded the coffee table.

“Oh, you’re kidding me.” Rose muttered under her breath.

The top of the tree began to spin wildly, the star flung off by the g-force. It shattered into an explosion of shimmering dust, a shard flying out and scratching across Mickey’s neck. He slapped a hand to the cut with a curse. “Fucking hell, it’s going to kill us!”

One by one, the three tiers started spinning in alternating directions, baubles flying and shattering in the air around them. The shards stung as they landed in Jack’s skin and he flipped up the collar of his jacket to protect him from the worst of it. Then the  _ tree itself _ lifted out of its basket, hovering over the carpet as it moved closer. Winds whipped around the flat like a hurricane, buffeting the group back and forth. Mickey jostled his shoulder as they both tried to keep their balance.

As the tree moved forwards, its long, sharp branches caught the light, pine needles turning to real ones, sharp implements ready to tear them apart. The small green frog, still lying abandoned, was swept up as the tree moved over it and soon scraps of yarn and stuffing were flying out from the belly of the beast. Only the crack of the tree ripping through the coffee table was enough to shock them all into action.

“Get out!” Mickey gave Rose and Jackie both a shove towards the living room door. “Go, go! Get out!” 

Jack’s hand went immediately to his wrist to flick back the cover on his Vortex Manipulator. He’d be able to scan it, see what technology it was, who was controlling it, how to  _ stop _ it. His hand hit bare skin. Shit. His manipulator was still on the Satellite. On the satellite with–

“Hey, flyboy! You gonna give me a hand?”

Jack looked up to see Mickey wrestling with a chair. He held it up in front of him like a shield but as soon as the tree reached it, the legs were torn up like they’d gone through a wood chopper. The new addition of shards of wood flying through the air made the room even more dangerous. “Leave it! We gotta get out of here!” Jack grabbed Mickey’s arm as the other man threw the remains of the chair at the killer Christmas tree. Then they both ran.

Jack expected to see the front door hanging open, the Tyler women waiting for them in the relative safety of the outside hallway. Instead, he found Jackie trying to pull Rose from the Doctor’s bedside. 

“No, leave him. Just leave him!” Jackie argued stubbornly. Jack couldn’t help the part of him that agreed with her. This tree, whatever it was, was most likely after the TIme Lord. And he was a sitting duck. If they stayed with him, they would be too. It was too late to leave. The tree was already in the corridor, blocking the way to the front door. All they could do was barricade themselves in and hope.

Mickey slammed the bedroom door shut.

“Mickey!” Jack shoves at the wardrobe, trying to move it in front of the door. With the other man’s help it slid quickly over. There was a screech, then a crunch, then the grating sound of Christmas songs got even louder. The tree was breaking through the door.

“Jackie, try to open the window!”

Jackie looked around, like she’d forgotten, in all her panic, where the windows in her own house were. “I'm going to get killed by a Christmas tree!”

In an attempt to get to the window, Jack barged past Rose. She was crouched over the comatose Doctor. Jack wanted to pull her away, to shake her and yell that they didn’t have time to beg a man they didn’t know for help. But they didn’t have time for him to do that either, so he ignored her and got to work dealing with the stuck lock.

He ignored the rustle of sheets behind him as well.

It was harder to ignore the explosion, harder still to ignore the silence that swept into the absence that jingle bells left behind.

He turned to see the Doctor, wild brown hair sticking every which way, sitting up. His screwdriver was still pointed at the remains of the tree, the duvet bunched up on his lap. “Remote control. But who's controlling it?” His voice was different, the pitch, the accent, the emphasis on words. But the underlying tone of curiosity, the one that promised days of wonder and adventure, was unmissable.

So too, was the penchant to jump at the chance of danger. And jump he did. The Doctor leapt to his feet before rushing through the hole in the wall, dressing gown whipping out behind him. The rest of them followed closely behind. Jackie nearly crashed into the back of the Doctor when he stopped suddenly. 

“That’s them.” Mickey pointed towards three figures dressed like Santa standing in the courtyard. Their metal masks stared blankly up at them, a remote in the hand of the leader. “They attacked me and Rose in town. What are they?”

Jack elbowed Mickey in the ribs while Rose shushed him. Jack still turned to the Doctor, expecting a witty joke or a simple explanation. The Time Lord didn’t turn to them. He simply lifted his hand, sonic screwdriver pointing lazily.

The figures took a step back, then two, three, then… they vanished in a beam of orange light.

Mickey moved out of the range of Jac’s sharp elbows. “They've just gone. What kind of rubbish were they? I mean, no offence, but they're not much cop if a sonic screwdriver's going to scare them off.”

Jack snorted, and simply shrugged when Rose shot him a look. “Mickey mouse isn’t wrong.”

Rose scowled at him, but she looked as uncomfortable with the Doctor’s changes as they all were. “Well–”

“Pilot fish.”

All eyes turned to the Doctor. “What?”

“They were just pilot fish.” Four pairs of expectant eyes waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t. Instead, the Doctor let out a pained groan, sinking to his knees before he fell back against the concrete support. 

Rose supported him as he slid down the wall. “What's wrong?”

“You woke me up too soon. I'm still regenerating. I'm bursting with energy,” he coughed, and a sliver of that same golden light that had curled out of Rose’s eyes on the satellite drifted from his lips and out into the atmosphere. “You see? The pilot fish could smell it a million miles away. So they eliminate the defence, that's you lot, and they carry me off. They could run their batteries on me for a couple of–” He grunted, clutching at his head. “My head! I'm having a neuron implosion.” He panted out between juddering breaths. “I need–”

“What do you need?” Jackie took both of his hands in hers, clutching them to her bosom.

“I need–”

“Say it. Tell me, tell me, tell me.”

“I need–”

“Painkillers?”

“I need–”

“Do you need aspirin?”

“I need–”

“Codeine? Paracetamol? Oh, I don't know, Pepto-Bismol?”

“I need–”

“Liquid paraffin. Vitamin C? Vitamin D? Vitamin E?”

“I need–”

“Is it food? Something simple. Bowl of soup. A nice bowl of soup? Soup and a sandwich? Soup and a little ham sandwich?” 

Jack was torn between laughing and telling Jackie to shut up so the Doctor could talk. Turns out he wasn’t needed to do the latter.

“I need you to shut up.” The Doctor snapped.

“Oh,” Jackie crouched back on her heels, frowning. “He hasn't changed that much, has he?” Jack actually did laugh at that.

“We haven't got much time. If there's pilot fish, then –why's there an apple in my dressing gown?” Even with his face contorted in a grimace, he still managed to look adequately puzzled.

“Oh, that's Howard. Sorry.”

“He keeps apples in his dressing gown?”

“He gets hungry.”

“What, he gets hungry in his sleep?”

Jackie shrugged. “Sometimes.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Hey, pilot fish? I’ve never heard of them. Are they from this quadrant?”

The Doctor shook his head, then let out another pain-stricken groan. “Brain collapsing. The pilot fish. The pilot fish mean that something, something, something is coming.” And with that piece of enlightening information, he promptly passed back out.

The TV was still burbling in the background. It had been playing a Christmas movie while Jack and Jackie had been decorating the tree, but had since changed back to an interview with the scientists working on the probe that had been sent out. If he remembered his 21st history correctly, this was around the time that humanity turned to the stars, leading to many alien hoaxes. It was the same kind of news as Jack had been watching earlier in the day, nothing particularly exciting. He easily tuned it out, instead watching Mickey pull up Google.

“There won’t be anything online if they’re aliens.”

“Who says they’re aliens?” Mickey fired back with a raised eyebrow. And sure enough, within seconds there were pages and pages of information about pilot fish on the screen. Mickey clicked on the first one, quickly scanning the page to get the jist of it.

“Here we go, pilot fish. Scavengers, like the Doctor said. Harmless. They're tiny. But the point is, the little fish swim alongside the big fish.” He pointed to the animated diagram showing this very phenomenon. 

“Like minnows and sharks.”

Mickey nodded. “Great big sharks. So, what the Doctor means is, we had them, now we get that.”

“Something is coming.” Rose’s voice came from close behind Jack. She was half squatting, peering over his and Mickey’s shoulders. “How close?”

“There's no way of telling, but the pilot fish don't swim far from their daddy.”

“So, close.” Jack said gravely, not liking the way Mickey nodded his agreement.

“Funny sort of rocks.” It took a second for Jack to realise what Jackie was talking about. He followed her gaze to the tv. It had switched from the repeats of the same interview over and over to live footage from the space probe. The screen flickered and buzzed, flipping over itself a few times before the static started to stabilize. 

Jack scrambled off his chair, moving to kneel in front of the tv. “Those aren’t rocks.” 

“This image is being transmitted via mission control, coming live from the depths of space on Christmas morning.” 

The image finally cleared, revealing a distorted face, as scarred and craggly as the rocks in the background. Blood red eyes stared out from the eye holes in the skull-like mask. The mask of a warrior. Cracked and dried lips pulled back to bare teeth before twisting into an ugly snarl. The roar that escaped its mouth made even Rose jump back from the television.

Jack gaped at the screen. “That’s a Sycorax.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late!! Hope you all enjoy it either way! Did everyone see the New Years special last night? I Won't say any spoilers but I really enjoyed it!  
> I had to update the chapter count because it turns out this is gonna be five chapters long not four!   
> I absolutely loved reading all ur comments and thoughts, thank you so much! As always, check out our other work on tumblr @garknessandbones and @thirteeninafez :) see y'all next week!


	3. The Christmas Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter: Jack, Mickey, and Rose, in true 2020 style, spend christmas on a zoom call

“They’re saying it’s all a hoax, this is  _ just _ like last time with the bloody Slitheen.” Mickey flicked off the tv. The news was useless now, all they were doing was ‘proving’ it was just prosthetics and good editing, the work of some dumb kids with too much spare time. Jack was grateful for the sudden quiet; the Sycorax’s guttural roar was getting grating after hearing it on repeat for what must’ve been the hundredth time.

“Speaking of, how did they explain the incident back in Cardiff?” Rose asked.

“Earthquake.” 

“And the massive glowing light? The explosions?” Jack raised an eyebrow and Mickey shrugged.

“Earthquake that coincided with a test run of the new lightshow at the Water Tower. Gas leaks to explain away the explosions. And there you have it, simplest explanation for an alien explosion in history.”

“Humans,” Jack shook his head. “You can be so stupid.”

Mickey scoffed, rolling his eyes. “What? Like you’re not human?”

Jack smirked slightly. It was fun to watch the way Mickey’s eyes widened in realization and then shock. And Jack was only slightly pulling his leg. After all, over the next three thousand years, the definition of human broadened its terms by a huge amount. By Jack’s day and age, there were only a handful of people who could claim they were pure, 100% earth genes. Even less who weren’t lying about it. 

“No. Give it up, you’re not an alien.”

Jack just laughed, until Rose slapped him upside the head. “Stop messing with him Jack.”

“I’m not messing!” 

Mickey directed his next question at Rose, full of almost teasing scorn (most of it for Jack). “What? So I’m just supposed to believe you and Ianto both have alien boyfriends?” The last few words rushed out of his mouth in a breathy tangle, like a thought that he wanted to clamp back but couldn’t get a grip on it quite in time. The warm mood that had bubbled up with their banter, filling in the spaces between their worries, rushed away as quick as the tide before a tsunami, leaving cold cold grief in its wake. 

Jack felt like all the air had been punched out of his lungs at the mention of Ianto. He hung his head, gaze focused on his socked feet. Rose’s hand slipped from Jack’s shoulder. “Hey, Mickey, didn’t you say you’d be able to hack the military? See what they know about what’s going on?”

“Oh.” Mickey’s foundering was obvious from his voice. His chair scraped across the floor as he dragged it back to the computer in the corner. “Yeah– yeah just give me a minute and I’ll be in.”

True to his word, it only took a few minutes for UNIT’s own site to display a flashing outline of a spaceship rapidly approaching the Earth’s atmosphere. “Take a look at this. It’s big, it’s fast, and it’s coming straight for us.”

“Coming for what though?” Rose crouched down, looking over Mickey’s shoulder. A series of numbers ran along the bottom of the script, a constant stream of jargon that was translated by the computer into the images they were seeing.

“The Doctor?” Jack suggested.

“I don’t know.” Mickey paused. “Could be coming for all of us.”

Silence followed in the enormity of his statement, punctuated by the clack of the keyboard keys. Jack had never much seen the point of the optional feature on all of the technology of the future, the chance to harken back to the days of mechanical keyboards with the addition of any sort of noise you could request, clicks or beeps or the squarks of a beezle. Now he did. The noise was a comforting reminder that although nothing was happening yet, they were working in a tangible way against this force. You didn’t get that from a holosplay. 

The screen changed to a crackling video of the same footage as shown on the news broadcasts. The Sycorax snarled, lunching towards the screen, then pulled back just as suddenly. Jack braced himself for it to roar. 

It didn’t.

It started talking.

This was new footage. Then Jack noted the blinking light in the corner and the little note showing it was live footage, straight from the spaceship.

“Have you two seen them before?”

“No.” Rose shook her head. 

Both of them turned to look at Jack but he was still staring at the screen. He spoke when he felt their eyes on him. “Once or twice. The Sycorax. They’re very religious, but how the Crusades were religious. They’re warriors, and the last race in the Alliance to give up slavery, if you forget about the Ood. And that was only under the threat of the Judoon.”

Mickey whistled, low and long, through his teeth. “Nasty pieces of work then?” 

Jack nodded. “Very mean in the bedroom. How long until they get here?”

Mickey pulled up a window showing the velocity of the ship and a slow countdown. “Five hours. Give or take.” He pressed another button and the sound from the video filtered through the tinny speakers.

Rose frowned. “Hang on, I don't understand what they're saying. The Tardis translates alien languages inside my head, all the time, wherever I am.”

“So, why isn't it doing it now?”

“I don't know. Must be the Doctor. Like he's part of the circuit, and he's–” She sucked in a breath. “He's broken.”

“What about you, Flash? Can you understand it?”

Jack focused hard on the grunts. It had been a long time since his basic classes back when he was training for the Time Agency. “...cattle. You belong to us. To the Sycorax. We own you. We now possess your land, your minerals, your precious stones. You will surrender or they will die. Sycorax strong, Sycorax mighty, Sycorax rock.” Jack even translated the hand motion into the 21st Century equivalent. Index and pinky pointing up to the sky, thumb holding down his other two fingers.

“Rock like…”

“Like cool.”

Rose was frowning when she interrupted Mickey’s skepticism. “ _ They  _ will die. Not  _ you _ will die, they will die. Who’s they?”

Mickey shrugged. “They’re talking to the government right? Maybe they just mean citizens.”

“Maybe…” Jack tried to keep the thought that was weaseling its way into his brain at bay but his eyes couldn’t help but drift towards the closed door of the Doctor’s room. The pilot fish had gone after him and there was no denying that the Sycorax were the shark they had been swimming along with. If they were here to win in a glorious and righteous battle, it would make sense for them to go for the Doctor. Which meant they would come after them too. 

Rose’s eyes followed his gaze. He knew she was thinking the same.

They had to do something.

Rose stood in the doorway. Over her shoulder, Jack could see the Doctor pale and lifeless in the pyjamas that were just on the wrong side of too big. The kind that made him look small in the double bed. Jackie was slumped over next to him, her backside in the chair and top half curled onto the duvet. Rose had obviously pulled a blanket over her mum to keep her warm. It was tucked in around her shoulders, only her hands peeking out where they held onto the Doctor’s. It would be touching, if they weren’t worried for the life of the man in the bed, if they weren’t mourning the loss of another.

“The Doctor wouldn't do this. The old Doctor, the proper Doctor, he'd wake up. He'd save us.” Rose’s voice was soft but a steel rod of anger ran through it. Jack draped his arm over her shoulders, pulling her close into his shoulder. She leant into him immediately, her head against his chest. Her hair smelt like strawberries. Somehow, amongst the panic and the research, she’d found time to wash the satellite dust out of it. It had been the last residue of what they had been through up there.

“Nah, he’d get himself into an even worse position, Rosie, and we’d have to save his ass. It’d be just like France.”

Rose snorted, but took hold of the hand on his shoulder and held it tight. “I saved your ass there too if I remember correctly.” 

Jack grinned and squeezed her hand. “Exactly, long as we’ve got you, we’ll be fine.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye when he felt her yawn against his shoulder. “Get some sleep. Mickey and I are gonna have a look at the Tardis, see if there’s anything her fancy computers can do.”

Jack stood in the doorway to the Doctor’s room, watching Rose drag her feet down the corridor. Her door shut softly behind her.

Tension settled in the Tardis like a thick blanket, muffling the sounds of them banging around as they tried to turn on the Tardis computer. All the buttons and levers that Jack could’ve sworn he’d seen the Doctor push in that  _ exact _ order just made dull thunks. It was tension that Jack was familiar with. He’d felt it before, when Ianto had left him and Mickey alone in the clothes store. 

The easy banter while Rose was around had lulled Jack into thinking maybe it wouldn’t be this bad when he was alone with Mickey, but the lack of conversation hung heavy between them. Jack didn’t know how he could break it. 

He wouldn’t, however, say he was lucky not to have to.

“Rose won’t tell me what happened. You know, in the future. Wouldn’t tell me when Big Ears sent her back here alone either.”

Jack paused what he was doing but didn’t look up. “Is this you trying to get me to tell you?”

Mickey cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, ‘guess it is.”

Jack considered for a minute, how to start. Where did it start, really? The past few days had felt like years, even though it had probably been only a week since he had last seen Mickey. So he started there, with the end of their last adventure together, and the depositing of Blon Fel Fotch. All the way through his experience of the games, the two murderous robots that wanted to somehow improve perfection. Jack talked quickly over the battle, left out the secrets Ianto had told him, and skimmed over the way Ianto had left him in that lift. The longer he talked, the easier it got, and by the time he had described the light that had spilled from Rose’s eyes and decimated the Dalek army, his shoulders sat comfortable, no longer held stiff and close to his ears.

The silence that followed his tale was long enough for Jack to get uncomfortable again.

“So they were all dead? The Daleks?”

Jack nodded. “Every single one of them.”

“And the Satellite wasn’t about to explode or anything, was it?”

Jack frowned and looked up from the console. Even looking at Mickey’s expression didn’t give him any more insight into what the other man was thinking. “No, why are you–”

“So,” Mickey started, talking over Jack loudly. There was a steely note to his tone that hadn’t been there before. “Why did you leave Ianto’s body there? What, he not worth enough to be able to come home?”

Jack floundered, completely taken off guard by the sudden line of questioning. “I–”

“He didn’t deserve to be abandoned there all alone, even if he is dead.” Mickey snapped before Jack could even think of how he was going to finish his response. 

Mickey’s rage caught and spread to Jack, red hot through his veins. Not even his argument with Rose had tapped into this anger, anger caused by the unrighteousness, the  _ unfairness _ , of the way that battle had ended. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Jack snapped right on back. Mickey took half a step back as Jack crowded into his space. “I was  _ dragged _ off of that space station. The Doctor had the Tardis in flight before Rose had stopped  _ glowing _ . Then,” Jack stabbed Mickey in the chest with a firm finger. “Then the Doctor just – bam–” Jack snapped his fingers. “New face. No explanation. And I’m supposed to fly this fucking thing the rest of the way without getting anyone killed! Then I show up here and everyone is telling me that it's  _ my  _ fault like I don’t already know that!” 

Jack paused to take a few deep breaths, but didn’t give Mickey a chance to even gather his thoughts before he started up again. “Every time I touch this Tardis, she does nothing. She barely even let me steer her here. But the  _ second _ the Doctor wakes up and gets his ass in here, I’m going back and I’m getting him.”

There was silence between them once again, but the tension had been washed away at some point during Jack’s tirade. His finger was still prodding at Mickey’s chest. Mickey batted it away and Jack let his hand drop simply to his side. 

“Well then, the quicker we deal with these ugly aliens, the quicker we can wake up the ugly one upstairs.” And with that, Mickey and Jack got back to work.

It was only a coincidence in the end. Pure blind luck that the Sycorax dealt in layers of threats before wiping a third of the population off the earth. Pure coincidence that the Tardis screen flickered on just in time to show the scene taking place just outside the doors. People, clad in anything from boxers to pyjamas to their work suits stepped out of their homes, faces blank and backs ramrod straight. Spouses tugged on their hands as their children joined the unsettling procession.

Jack only had time to glance at Mickey’s reaction before they rushed out of the Tardis to join the quiet chaos on the streets.

Close by, a woman tried to stop her husband with that same blank expression. “What is wrong with you?” She tripped over her own feet as she walked sideways, stumbling over her slippers. The knot of her dressing gown was slowly coming loose, revealing her reindeer covered pyjamas. “Jason? Jason?” She shook his shoulder desperately.

Mickey ran up to her. “Sandra? What’s going on?”

“He won't listen. He's just walking. He won't stop walking! There's this sort of light thing. Jason? Stop it right now! Please, Jason, just stop.” She was in near hysterics as Jason turned to the steps that led up to the roof. 

Mickey went to follow them but Jack grabbed his arm. “We need to make sure Rose is okay.”

Mickey glanced between him and the people heading for the roofs before nodding and following Jack to the Tyler’s flat. 

Rose and Jackie were both awake when they got there, gathered around the TV. The news showed images from all over the country, all of people with that same blue glowing light hovering in front of their eyes, all of people staring blankly into the distance as they stood teetering on the edge of buildings. 

Mickey inhaled sharply. “What do we do?”

“Nothing.” Jack had never seen Rose’s shoulders slump like that. “There's no one to save us. Not anymore.” She stole a regretful glance towards the room where the Doctor was still unconscious.

Anger rolled in Jack’s stomach, anger at the man who had left them, who had changed his face and abandoned them with a useless  _ stranger _ . “Then we do it ourselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really heating up now! Even without the Doctor being any help!  
> Thank you all so much for your comments! They make our days! As always, check us out on tumblr: @garknessandbones and @thirteeninafez! (I also have a new art tumblr @beezybeeartist that I'm gonna take this chance to shamlessly self promo :D )   
> See you next week!


	4. The Christmas Standoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: The Christmas Confrontation Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

They were nearly at the Tardis when it happened. Rose was holding open the Tardis doors as Jack and Mickey struggled to get an unconscious Doctor down the stairs and across the courtyard without giving him any permanent brain damage. The Doctor’s arms were skinny under the fluffy dressing gown and his shoulder stuck into Jack’s side with the angle at which he was being carried. It was a sharp contrast to the figure of  _ their _ Doctor, with his thick sweaters and sturdy jacket. Never before, when he’d hugged the Doctor, had he had a bone jab him (not even  _ that _ kind of bone). The Doctor's bed head hair wormed its way into Jack's mouth as he argued directions to Mickey.

“No more to the left - your left – no, the  _ other  _ left.”

“To me?”

“Of course to you, that’s the way we're  _ going _ .”

“No – no it’s a… oh never mind.”

Mickey sighed and glanced over his shoulder as he half shuffled, half ran backwards towards the Tardis. Jack spat the spiky locks of hair out, electing to keep his mouth shut until the Doctor’s head was a safe distance away. 

The Doctor's legs were just about inside the door. Jackie was struggling out of the flat, probably carrying the same weight – if not more – as Jack and Mickey in carrier bags of food. Rose shouted something at her about being ridiculous but the end of her sentence was drowned out when–

BOOM!

In an instant, all the windows of the flat surrounding them shattered. The crash was deafening. Glass fell like glittering powder around them, rain that would cut and slice if they weren’t careful. The surprise had Mickey stumbling back, dropping the Doctor’s feet. Jack staggered forward but he managed to keep the Doctor’s head from cracking open on the concrete. 

Somewhere amongst the ringing in his ears he heard the clatter of cans rolling down the stairs. The exploding jars had sliced all but two of Jackie’s bags of food clean in half. 

“What was that?” Rose half yelled, hands to her ears.

“Sonic wave! The spaceship must’ve hit the atmosphere!” Jack dragged the Doctor the last few feet into the Tardis, depositing him rather unceremoniously on the grating. “We’re running out of time if we want to get up there and stop them.”

Mickey snorted derisively. “Yeah, no kidding. Well, come on, Captain Cheesecake. Fly us up there.”

Jack stared at him blankly. 

“You flew this thing here didn’t you?”

“I landed it. And only because that bag of bones over there was in no state to.”

The doors opened, and Rose dropped the still intact bags Jackie had been carrying. “Mum’s gone back to get more food, but we have tea.” She brandished the flask like it was a weapon. 

“Rose!” Mickey called. “You can fly the Tardis can’t you?”

Her face fell. “Not anymore, no.”

Mickey frowned. “Well, you did it before.”

“I know, but it's sort of been wiped out of my head, like it's forbidden.” Jack hadn’t forgotten  _ how _ exactly it had been wiped from her brain. If it hadn't been for everything else that was going on in that moment, Jack would have been jealous. “Try that again and I think the Universe rips in half.”

Mickey looked between the two of them for a few seconds. “So you two have been travelling with him for a year and you don’t know how to fly this thing?” He asked with all the bafflement of a true mechanic. He sighed, turning to the console. “Looks like we’re just gonna have to fuck around and find out then.” 

As soon as Mickey flipped one switch, the entire room lit up with a bright blue glow.

“Did I just–”

“Definitely not.” Jack said dryly, pulling the scanner down. The screen was lit up with a strange pattern of waves. For the life of him, Jack couldn’t work out what they meant. “Probably just hit the light switch.”

“So, what do we do? Just sit here?”

“If I can just…” Jack squinted at the screen. “Rose! You know what these readings mean?”

Rose pressed the cup of tea she’d just poured into Mickey’s hands before pouring her own. “I miss coffee,” she murmured as she moved over to Jack. She pressed up against his shoulder as she peered at the screen. The comment clenched around his heart. 

“So do I.” The small exchange was about so much more than just a hot drink. Jack had no doubt that Ianto would’ve gotten them up to the spaceship by this point. Either by forcing the Doctor awake again, or by hot wiring the Time Lord’s ship. He cracked a small smile at the thought.

Rose squeezed his arm. “Never seen anything like them before. The Doctor would know. Do you think..?” She glanced over to the figure sprawled on the floor. They should probably move him, or at least give him some sort of pillow. Jack couldn’t bring himself to feel too sympathetic. 

“Not even that supersonic wave woke him. I doubt we could.”

Rose’s shoulders slumped. Their idea had been a solid one, as solid as their plans ever were at least. However, their plans to charge blindly onto dangerous spaceships are usually squashed once they get  _ on _ the ship, not beforehand.

The feeling of defeat settled heavily on Jack’s own shoulders as the wavelengths moved smoothly across the monitor. Staring at them wasn’t making it any more comprehensible.

The silence was broken by a loud slurp from Mickey’s direction. “Tea. Like we're having a picnic while the world comes to an end. Very British.” 

“From what I’ve heard, Jackie making tea while the world is ending seems the least craziest thing that’s happened today.”

Mickey laughed at that, but Rose’s lips only quirked up into a smile before she turned towards the door. “Hold on, where is she?” Jack and Mickey both shrugged. “I'd better give her a hand. It might start raining missiles out there.”

The waves were all starting to blur together. The peaks and frequency leveled out, became even spikes moving on a conveyor across the screen. And Jack still didn’t know what they meant. And he still didn’t know how to get up to that goddamn spaceship. And–

Rose screamed.

Mickey’s cup was quickly discarded as they both sprinted out of the Tardis, only to be met with the sight of, rather than the Powell Estate, the main deck of the Sycorax ship. Jack skidded to a stop as quickly as he could. “Mickey!” The other man crashed into the back of him none too elegantly. “The door!”

“Shut the door!” Rose interrupted Jack’s own command as a Sycorax held her back. 

Jack shoved Mickey to a stumbling start and he just about got to the door before any Sycorax could. The door slammed shut with a resounding bang that was quickly followed by a prideful roar from the warrior race.

Jack breathes a sigh of relief to see that the Tardis was still an impenetrable stronghold, a point of safety in enemy territory. As long as one of them still had their key. Jack was pretty sure his was in his jacket pocket. His jacket that was currently hanging on the coat rack inside said impenetrable stronghold. Fuck. 

At the very least, the Sycorax didn't seem to be actively imprisoning them. Rose had been released by the initial Sycorax that had grabbed her, and was now being embraced by the Prime Minister, Harriet Jones.

The woman hugged her tight, a worried hand clutching the back of her head as if checking for injuries. “Rose. Rose! I've got you. My Lord. Oh, my precious thing.” Harriet Jones let her go just enough that she could look at Rose properly. “The Doctor, is he with you?”

Rose glanced at the locked Tardis. “No. We're on our own.”

Harriet suddenly looked a lot less reassured by the Tardis team’s presence.

From across the room, the Sycorax leader, the one who had spoken on the broadcasts, started to speak. Jack was about to start translating for all the human’s sakes, when the man started besides the Prime Minister, spoke up. 

“The yellow–”

“Blonde,” Jack couldn’t help but interrupt.

The man frowned, looking up from the tablet in his hands for the first time. “How did you..?”

“I speak Sycoraxic. Only conversationally, but still.”

Harriet turned to him, seeming to notice him for the first time. “Who are you?”

“Captain Jack Harkness, at your service, Ma’am.”

“Harriet Jones, Prime minister.”

Jack barked out a laugh, shocked that she felt that she had to introduce herself. “I know who you are.”

The Sycorax leader roared, effectively interrupting their meet and greet. His rapid fire words were angry and impatient now. Jack translated as he went, leaving out the rather choice words that were added among them.

“The blonde girl who travels in the blue box will be the one to speak for your planet. She is the only one worthy enough.” Jack frowned at that bit. “Colour me offended.”

Jack wasn’t the only one with an objection to that statement. Harriet stepped forward, putting herself between Rose and the Sycorax leader. "But she can't.”

“Yeah, I can.”

“Don't you dare.” Mickey warned. Jack suddenly realised that these people didn’t know Rose. Of course, they  _ knew  _ her. Mickey had been her best friend all her life. But they hadn’t seen her kill a Mara, or save the entirety of humanity and history a hundred times over. Jack had, and he knew she could do it again.

Rose set her shoulders firm and square. “Someone's got to be the Doctor.”

“They'll kill you.” Harriet clutched at Rose’s arm.

Rose shrugged her off gently but her voice was determined. “Never stopped him.” She turned and faced down the leader of the Sycorax. “I, er, I address the Sycorax according to Article Fifteen of the Shadow Proclamation.”

Jack’s faith in her was slowly dwindling as she continued to stumble over her words and name more and more alien species that they had run into. 

“I command you to leave this world with all the authority of the Slitheen Parliament of Raxacoricofallapatorius, and er, the Gelth Confederacy as er, sanctioned by the Mighty Jagrafess and, oh, the Daleks! Now, leave this planet in peace! In peace.” 

Jack groaned quietly. There was no such thing as the Gelf conference, if there was it was too insignificant for Jack to know of them, and the Jagrafess weren’t even in this quadrant of the universe until the 40th Century. The main difference between the Doctor and Rose, he realised, was that the Doctor was a hell of a lot better at lying.

Every last Sycorax in the room burst out laughing.

“You are hilarious. It’s almost a shame that you are going to die.”

Rose’s eyes widened as she heard the translated words. 

A chorus of protests went up from Mickey and Harriet, but all it achieved was to get them dragged back by the soldiers closest to them. They struggled for a few minutes before giving up. Mickey even managed to get in a kick to the groin – not that that would affect a Sycorax, but it was a valiant effort.

The Sycorax leader was slowly stalking closer and closer to Rose. “Did you think you were clever with your stolen words?

“Hey!” Jack shouted, stepping in between him and Rose. “Look, we’re not with the Shadow Proclamation. But one word from me and I’ll bring the entire Time Agency down on you.”

“You? A Time Agent?” The Sycorax leader sneered, “Prove it to us then.”

Jack pushed his sleeve up automatically, ready to show off his (admittedly, now fake) credentials on his Vortex Manipulator, only to once again be met by bare skin. Shit. He had to stop forgetting about that. The Sycorax that surrounded them burst out into grating laughter. But his strategy had worked. The Sycorax leader had turned all his focus to him rather than Rose.

“We are the Sycorax, we stride the darkness. Next to us you are but a wailing child. If you are the best your planet can offer as a champion,” Somewhere he registered that Harriet’s assistant was still translating the leader’s words for everyone else but he zoned him out. “Then your world will be gutted and your people enslaved.”

Jack frowned as the leader’s language morphed mid sentence. He no longer had to translate each word in his head and piece the sentences back together, each one instead sprung fully formed into his brain. Alex however, was the first one to point it out. “Hold on, that's English.”

“He's talking English.”

“You're talking English.”

The Sycorax leader snarled at the human. “I would never dirty my tongue with your primitive bile.”

“That's English. Can you hear English?” 

Jack nodded. “Definitely English.”

“I speak only Sycoraxic!” The Sycorax roared.

“If I can hear English, then it's being translated.” A grin spread across Rose’s face. “Which means it's working. Which means–”

Jack turned away from the Sycorax leader just in time to see both the Tardis doors bang open. The Doctor, the _new_ Doctor, complete with bathrobe and spiky hair, stood in the doorway, haloed by the light of the Tardis console room behind him. He tilted his head, looking at Rose. “Did you miss me?”

The Sycorax’s whip cracked out over Jack’s shoulder, but before it could make impact with the Time Lord, the Doctor had caught it. One sharp tug and the handle was wrenched out of the Sycorax’s hand. It clattered to the floor by the Doctor’s feet. “You could have someone's eye out with that.” 

Jack wanted to stay angry at him. He wanted so badly to stay angry at the man who used to be one of his closest friends and had now become a stranger. But there was something in his eyes, a twinkle that was exactly the same. He bounced on the balls of his feet like a six year old who had just stepped into a candy store. A cheeky smile graced his lips as he ripped a thick club from one of the soldiers and broke it over his leg before it could be swung at him. 

“You just can't get the staff. Now, you,” the Doctor jabbed a finger at the leader of the Sycorax, “Just wait. I'm busy. Mickey, hello! And Harriet Jones MP for Flydale North. Blimey, it's like This Is Your Life. Tea! That's all I needed, a good cup of tea! Superheated infusion of free radicals and tannin. Just the thing for healing the synapses. Now, first thing's first. Be honest, how do I look?” He grinned at the small gaggle of people staring at him in shock. His eyes flitted randomly between them all, but his grin seemed to fade just slightly when he met Jack’s. He quickly turned to Rose, waiting for her answer.

“Er,” Rose shifted on her feet. “Different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“Just... different.”

The Doctor seemed to deem her answer acceptable. He nodded slightly, then ran a hand through his hair. “Am I ginger?”

“No, you're just sort of–” she waved her hand absently, “–brown.”

At that, the Doctor put on a full on pout. “I wanted to be ginger. I've never been ginger. And you.” He strode forward like a man on a mission. “Rose Tyler, fat lot of good you were. You gave up on me.” He pulled up short just before he reached her and turned to face Jack. “I almost expected it, 21st century human and all, not used to people changing their faces, but you Jack? Thought you’d be a bit more open minded.” Jack felt his previous anger at the Doctor start to bubble up but then the Doctor dropped back and frowned at himself. “Oh, that's rude. That's the sort of man I am now, am I? Rude. Rude and not ginger.”

“I'm sorry.” Harriet interrupted. “Who is this?”

“I'm the Doctor.”

Rose grinned. “He's the Doctor.”

Harriet frowned. “But what happened to my Doctor? Or is it a title that's just passed on?”

“I'm him.” A bit of his puppy dog energy drained with the seriousness of his words and for a second, he looked like their Doctor again. “I'm literally him. Same man, new face. Well, new everything.”

“But you can't be.”

“Harriet Jones, we were trapped in Downing Street and the one thing that scared you wasn't the aliens, it wasn't the war, it was the thought of your mother being on her own.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Did you win the election?”

“Landslide majority.” Harriet grinned proudly, only to let out an oof as the Doctor swooped her up into an excited hug.

“If I might interrupt.”

The Doctor turned, eyebrows raised. He smiled at the Sycorax in that polite way that you might smile at a stranger who had asked for directions. “Yes, sorry. Hello, big fellow.”

“Who exactly are you?” The Sycorax bared his teeth, patience running thin with this madman who had randomly appeared from a blue box and who obviously had no respect for his leadership.

“Well, that's the question.” The Doctor’s musing on this philosophical question was cut off before it could begin.

“I demand to know who you are!” The Sycorax roared.

“I don't know!” The Doctor roared back before he regained some of his composure. “See, there's the thing. I'm the Doctor, but beyond that, I just don't know. I literally do not know who I am. It's all untested.” He wandered around the room like a Shakespearean actor delivering a soliloquy. “Am I funny? Am I sarcastic? Sexy? Right old misery? Life and soul? Right handed? Left handed? A gambler? A fighter? A coward? A traitor? A liar? A nervous wreck? I mean, judging by the evidence, I've certainly got a gob.” He laughed at his own joke before leaning against the pillar he had found himself standing by. 

“And how am I going to react when I see this, a great big threatening button.” He flicked the casing of said button, a great bright red thing that Jack had to admit, did look particularly tempting. 

“A great big threatening button which must not be pressed under any circumstances, am I right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Let me guess. It's some sort of control matrix, hmm? Hold on, what's feeding it?” 

He dropped into a squat, fiddling for a second before a hidden door popped open at the base of the pillar. Inside was a fairly large vat, filled with a mystery liquid that glimmered thick and dark in the ship’s lighting. So naturally, the Doctor immediately stuck his finger in it.

“And what've we got here? Blood?” The Doctor lifted his finger out of the vat, inspected it for a second, then stuck it straight into his mouth. Jack cringed, seeing Rose do the same from the corner of his eye. The Doctor didn’t seem at all fazed. He smacked his lips together a couple times as he rolled the taste around in his mouth. “Yeah, definitely blood. Human blood. A Positive, with just a dash of iron. Ah,” he stood up, “but that means blood control. Blood control! Oh, I haven't seen blood control for years. You're controlling all the A Positives.”

“Blood control!” Jack whooped, “Of course it is, Doctor you’re a genius!” 

“Don’t forget it Jackie-boy!” The Doctor threw him a wink over his shoulder. “So Jack, pop quiz. We’ve got a vat of blood, creepy voodoo magic controlling a third of the world, and a great big threatening button which should never, ever, ever be pressed. What should we do?”

Jack grinned. “Well Doctor, I think we should push it.”

“That’s the spirit!” The Doctor ignored Rose and Harriet’s cries as his fist came down and hit the button with a satisfying thump.

“You killed them!” Harriet’s assistant shouted.

“What do you think, Jack? Are they dead?”

Jack shook his head. “No way. Blood control is scary, but cheap and nasty. Can’t kill a fly.”

The Doctor nodded, spinning around on his heel to stare down the Sycorax leader. “Scares the pants off you, but that's as far as it goes. It's like hypnosis. You can hypnotise someone to walk like a chicken or sing like Elvis. You can't hypnotise them to death. Survival instinct too strong.”

The Sycorax leader stared straight on back, his posture not giving an inch, even though they had revealed his hand and thrown it off the table for good measure. “Blood control was just one form of conquest. I can summon the armada and take this world by force.”

“Well, yeah, you could, yeah, you could do that, of course you could. But why? Look at these people.” He gestured towards the group by the Tardis. “These human beings. Consider their potential. From the day they arrive on the planet and blinking, step into the sun, there is more to see than can ever be seen. More to do than–” He pulled a face at his own words. Jack caught Rose trying not to laugh out of the corner of his eye. “No, hold on. Sorry, that's The Lion King. But the point still stands. Leave them alone!”

“Or what?” The Sycorax leader growled.

“Or–” the Doctor pulled a sword from the belt of the Sycorax closest to him and brandished it as he bounded back over to the leader. “I challenge you.”

His bold statement was met by a sharp intake of breath from the humans and raucous laughter from the Sycorax. All of them except for the Leader. He stood, stoic and silent, staring at the Doctor. His hand rested on the sword at his hip.

“Oh, that struck a chord. Am I right that the sanctified rules of combat still apply?”

“You will stand as this world's champion.” 

“Thank you. I've no idea who I am, but you just summed me up.” The Doctor shrugged off his dressing gown in one smooth motion, tossing it behind him for Rose to catch. She dutifully did, seeming overjoyed to be back to dealing with his antics. Jack rolled his eyes fondly.

The Doctor continued with his taunting casually. “So, you accept my challenge? Or are you just a  _ senile cock herder _ ?” That particularly creative Sycoraxic insult would’ve made Jack laugh in any other circumstance. 

As for the Sycorax leader, he just looked even more deadly. “For the planet?”

The Doctor nodded, posture morning into one of seriousness. “For the planet.”

The first swing came as a surprise. Their swords crashed together like cymbals. The force pushed the Doctor back. He was on the defensive already.

Rose let out a scared yelp besides Jack and clutched at his arm. “Look out!”

The Doctor grimaced. “Oh, yeah, that helps. Wouldn't have thought of that otherwise, thanks.” 

Grunts and clangs filled the room. The sounds of a fight that appeared to have a clear winner. Each swing forced the Doctor another step back. Back and back and back. At least no blows were landing. 

Rose’s grip on Jack’s arm was like an iron vice. He was starting to lose feeling in his hand. He pulled his arm free gently, so that he could wrap it tight around her shoulder. Her hands searched for something else to clutch and found his own. That was how they stood, slowly following the Doctor and the fight as it moved down a tunnel and out onto the open wing of the spaceship. 

Jack took the Doctor’s breathless quips as a sign of encouragement, a sign that the fight wasn’t already lost. Maybe even a sign that the Doctor had a plan. But the closer he strayed to the edge, the more blows that nearly forced him to his knees, the less likely that seemed.

It took one blow for all that hope to vanish.

The Sycorax leader turned his blade. He slammed the hilt into the Doctor face.

The Doctor dropped to the wing edge.

Rose cried out. She rushed forward.

“Stay back! Invalidate the challenge and he wins the planet.”

Jack grabbed her arm and yanked her back to his side, even though his own legs were urging him to rush to the Doctor’s aide.

The Sycorax slashed. The air filled with the sickening sound of a sword cutting through muscle and bone. Jack couldn’t see what happened but he didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“You cut my hand off,” the Doctor said numbly. He lifted the bloody stump up, visible to all, as he picked himself back to his feet. The Sycorax leader let him. The Doctor had no chance, not now that he had no sword and no hand to fight with.

The Sycorax shouted triumphantly, but all the Doctor did was smile. 

“And now I know what sort of man I am. I'm  _ lucky _ . Because quite by chance I'm still within the first fifteen hours of my regeneration cycle, which means I've got just enough residual cellular energy to do this.” The stump morphed right before their very eyes. Out of the mangled mess grew another, surprisingly clean, hand. The Doctor shook it out before flexing his fingers a few times.

“Witchcraft,” the Sycorax leader growled

The Doctor smirked. “Time Lord.”

Jack pulled away from Rose, rushing over to the nearest Sycorax soldier. Conman hands found it easy to swipe the sword from the Sycorax’s belt. “Doctor!”

An easy toss and the hilt landed in the Doctor’s waiting hand. “Oh, so I'm still the Doctor, then?”

“No arguments from us!” Rose called. The tide was turning. It was clear in the relief in her shoulders and even clearer in the joy in Jack’s laugh.

The Doctor twirled the sword in his hand a few times. Jack rolled his eyes, now he was just showing off. “Want to know the best bit? This new hand? It's a fighting hand!”

With that, the Doctor swung. He had the advantage this time. The Sycorax was still reeling from the strange sight of watching a man regrow his own hand. If he was honest, Jack would be thrown off too. 

Mickey and Rose, instead of cringing and sucking in breaths, were cheering and whooping from the sidelines. Adrenaline, not fear, rushed into Jack’s throat. The fight was over quickly. 

In one fluid movement, the Doctor disarmed the Sycorax leader. He used the hilts of both swords to jab the leader in the chest. The Sycorax fell back, hitting the wing with a loud bang. His head dangled over the edge.

The Doctor stood over the defeated Sycorax leader, blade still pressed to his throat. “I win.”

“Then kill me,” the Sycorax spat.

“I'll spare your life if you'll take this Champion's command. Leave this planet, and never return. What do you say?” The blade pressed deeper. Jack saw a thin trickle of blood drip down onto London below.

“Yes.”

“Swear on the blood of your people.” 

“I swear.”

The Doctor’s entire demeanor switched with that confirmation. HIs shoulders relaxed and he tossed his swords carelessly. They landed on the wing of the ship with a metallic clang. “There we are, then. Thanks for that. Cheers, big fellow.”

Jack’s wolf whistle joined the pleased shouts of congratulations from everyone else as the Doctor walked back to the rag tag band. Rose bounded up to him, helping the dressing gown back on around his shoulders before enveloping him in a tight, relieved hug. When she pulled away, the Doctor was beaming from ear to ear.

“Ah, not bad for a man in his jim-jams. Very Arthur Dent. Now, there was a nice man.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets only to pull out a satsuma. “Hold on, what have I got in here? A satsuma. Ah, that friend of your mother's. He does like his snacks doesn't he? But doesn't that just sum up Christmas? You go through all those presents and right at the end, tucked away at the bottom, there's always one stupid old satsuma. Who wants a satsuma?” He held it up as though any of them would actually be craving fruit after everything they’d just been through.

Movement behind the Doctor dragged Jack’s gaze away from the satsuma. The Sycorax leader had picked himself up from the ledge, recovered his sword from where it had been discarded, and was quietly stalking towards the Doctor. Not a species to bother with subtly for long, he roared and charged at the Doctor’s back. Jack didn’t even have time to shout a warning. 

The Doctor threw the satsuma without even looking. Jack’s head whipped round to follow it, just about catching the way it hit a control on the hull. There was the smooth  _ shink _ of metal sliding, and a scream. A stream that quietened in the way a falling man in a cartoon sounds. By the time Jack had turned back to the Doctor, the Sycorax leader was gone, falling to a bloody death when he hit the streets of London.

“No second chances. I'm that sort of a man.”

The Doctor stood tall in front of the Tardis when they returned to the spaceship. He faced down the army whose leader he had just killed with no semblance of fear on his face. They could kill them right now. It would be no contest. They were relying on faith and fear. As they always did. Once that had been enough for Jack, but that had been when their casualty rate was 0%.

Even in the cavernous room, the Doctor’s voice was loud and strong. It bore no room for argument. “By the ancient rites of combat, I forbid you to scavenge here for the rest of time. And when you go back to the stars and tell others of this planet, when you tell them of it's riches, it's people, it's potential. When you talk of the Earth, then make sure that you tell them this. It is defended.”

The Sycorax were leaving. The ship was barely a comet by the time they thought to look for it in the sky. Jackie found them not too long after they were beamed back to a street corner near the Powell Estate, apparently the beam of blue light had been hard to miss. The reunion was tearful, after Jackie had let out a few choice words about how she felt about Rose leaving without any warning. Rose had tried to argue back that they hadn’t meant to, but it fell on deaf ears. The argument was only stopped at Jackie’s sudden realisation that the Prime Minister was standing with them. The Doctor took the brief moment of loving civility between mother and daughter to instigate a group hug. Even Jack and Mickey were reluctantly pulled in next to each other, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders.

“...Torchwood. They say they're ready.” 

Jack’s ears pricked up as he heard the familiar name of Ianto’s place of employment. Torchwood, the organisation, beyond the government and outside the law, sent in to deal with alien threats in any way they possibly could. The organisation that taught Ianto how to shoot a gun, how to make the hard decision. Torchwood was the organization that taught Ianto how to die in the line of service.

“Tell them to fire.” Harriet responded and Jack had a split second to make his decision.

Alex reached up to make the call, but Jack got there first. He plucked the bluetooth from the assistant’s ear and dropped it. There was a satisfying crunch as he crushed it under his boot. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Prime Minister.”

Harriet turned to him with hard eyes. “And who are you to make that call, Captain Harkness?”

Jack straightened his back and set his shoulders, hands clasped behind his back in the easy pose he had learnt from his stint in WWII. “According to a good friend of mine, I’m the director of Torchwood.”

“You’re insane. The director of Torchwood is–”

The Doctor cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter who Jack is, except for the fact that he has just proved he’s a better person than you, Harriet Jones, Prime Minister.” Somehow, it sounded like an insult coming from the Doctor’s mouth. “You’re supposed to bring in Britain’s golden age. Run for three whole terms. Sure would be a shame if you get thrown out of office in your first year.” 

Harriet narrowed her eyes. “Doctor, are you threatening me?” 

The Doctor shoved his hand into his dressing gown pockets with an eerie calm. “No second chances. Captain Harkness here has saved you this time. He won’t be here to do it again.” The tension between them was thick and choking. The Doctor looked at the Prime Minister with all the rage that had been directed at the Sycorax. “Now if you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave.”

And leave she did.

Jack could hear music filtering out through the corridors behind the console room. He didn’t recognise the song, but he followed it and found himself standing in the doorway of the wardrobe room. The Doctor stood with his back to Jack, adjusting his tie in a mirror. It looked familiar for some reason, but Jack couldn’t put his finger on why.

The Doctor met Jack’s eye in the mirror as he lifted a jacket off a hook next to him, shrugging it on easily. His face was carefully regarding for a few seconds before it broke into a wide grin. “So, how’s the mother’s cooking? Bad enough for you to run away?”

Jack didn’t smile back. He stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest. “You know that’s not why I’m here, Doctor.”

The Doctor’s grin faded and he looked down at his feet. He’d put on a pair of scuffed converse. They suited him. Then he was smiling again as he pulled a coat from a rack. “Do you like this coat? Janis Joplin gave me this coat, you know. Now  _ she _ was one hell of a wom–”

“ _ Doctor. _ ” Jack snapped.

The Doctor’s eyes flicked back to Jack’s. Jack hated the pity he saw in them. “Jack… if we go back there, you won’t like what you see.”

“It’s better than not knowing.”

“It might not be.” 

“Well,” Jack took a deep breath, “That’s not your decision to make.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remi hates me, this was all written yesterday. Remi, on the other hand, has their next 45,000 words written. We are very, very different people :)  
> Hope you all enjoyed it! It ended up a hell of a lot longer than it was supposed to be!!! Only one chapter left of this installment, can anyone guess what's going to happen?  
> Thank you all for your lovely comments, as always drop us a line on tumblr @garknessandbones and @thirteeninafez!


	5. The Christmas Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: Ianto drinks a smoothie :)

Ianto floated in the darkness. He wasn’t sure how long for. It reminded him too much of the Dark Places of the Inside. 

He wasn’t sure when the darkness started to fade. He wasn’t sure if the darkness had been truly total at all, or if it had always had this tinge of gold. Then, materialising out of the darkness was him, hundreds and  _ hundreds _ of him, all slumped prone. Some were lying down, some were propped up, some looked as though they were sleeping, some had horrific weapons sticking out of them, some: a single shot to the head. 

A breeze rustled through this field of bodies and as it passed over, the bodies gasped and woke one by one. The sight was a morbid twist on the way a crowd at a stadium might do the wave. At last the breeze reached him, enveloping him in warmth and whispered words. 

“I bring life.”

The words faded but the warmth stayed, growing hotter and hotter until every fibre of his being was screaming. It was like being exterminated all over again, only this time in reverse. Once again, the pain spiralled across his body through synapses and veins. His entire body felt like it was on fire, being dragged through burning coals. It was getting more concentrated, reigning itself in until his fingers and toes were just tingling with numbness and the fire centred itself in his abdomen, burning him from the inside, right where he had been shot. 

He inhaled sharply, and the fire was doused.

He was alive. 

Ianto Jones gasped back to life with all the quiet surprise of a man who had lived a good portion of his life dealing with far stranger circumstances than (or at least on par with) waking up on a space satellite two hundred thousand years in the future. Granted, his usual work day didn’t involve opening his eyes to see piles of dust where the universe’s most feared psychopaths had once stood, nor did it involve him waking alone – but there was a first time for everything. 

On some deep, deep level, Ianto knew he had died. On all other, much higher levels, Ianto refused to believe it. Because if Ianto had died then he had come back to life, which led to the logical conclusion that he couldn’t die. That he was immortal. 

Which meant he had royally fucked up.

It was difficult to lift his head, even harder to listen out for other survivors with that strange whooshing in his ears. It sounded like the Tardis dematerialiser.

It was much easier to stay sitting in his final resting place, staring at the remains of his killer, and ignore it all. The stillness that had settled over the entire Game Station sent Ianto’s spiralling thoughts into a feedback loop. He had never died, of course he hadn’t. There had been a malfunction in the Dalek. Whatever had killed it had gotten there in time. The shot wasn’t at full power. He’d just been knocked out from the pain, of course he’d just been knocked out from the pain. And now he was awake, Ianto was safe, the Doctor and Jack had saved the day.

Except, the Doctor and Jack were gone.

Only thirty minutes had passed between the Daleks storming the satellite and the time Ianto had managed to drag himself to his feet. The dust in front of him scattered under his ragged breaths. His entire body ached. Not altogether a surprising after effect of an attempted extermination. The empty gun discarded next to him worked well as a support until he was standing, then he threw it back to the floor. It wouldn’t help him anyway.

The irony was, he realised as he counted his footsteps, that he was only ten steps from the presumed safety of the 500th Floor. Maybe if he had made it, he would have some idea as to how the Daleks were ash and he was alive. At the very least, he might have known what had happened to the remaining crew of the Tardis. 

The heralded golden floor was as cold as it had been on Ianto’s first visit. 

The wires were still strewn across the floor. Not even half of them had managed to be connected. There were no bodies here, everyone had been down in the proverbial trenches with Ianto. Maybe they were ash too.  _ God. _ God, some of them had partners, had kids. They had  _ families _ . And now they were corpses, litter left from a war that wasn’t theirs.

Suddenly, the resemblance to Canary Wharf was oh so clear, even more so than it had been when he was staring into the eyestalk of a Dalek. Once again, he was left to pick over the casualties. 

He’d seen the Tardis for the first time that day, pressed innocuously into the corner of a corridor. He hadn’t noticed it when he had actually seen it, the perception filter making it so easy for his eyes to glaze over. It was harder to miss when he staggered past hours later. It was the only corner of the entire tower that hadn’t been stained with blood and ash.

It was the same today. The evidence of battle, even though this had just been a strategic stronghold, was strewn across the floor. A tangle of wires, metal panelling, and broken equipment. And there, against the back wall, an empty space where the Tardis had sat as a beacon of hope.

He was trapped, twenty two thousands miles out of place and two hundred thousand years out of time. He was alone.

And so naturally, he burst out laughing. The kind of gut wrenching laughs that spill out because nothing else could  _ possibly _ make your situation worse. The kind of laughs that drag themselves from your diaphragm against your will. The kind that spit in the image of God’s face because  _ how _ can he be real, how could he think of something  _ this _ ridiculous. These were the kind of laughs that escape your tongue and teeth and lips when you realise exactly how fucked up the universe is, how fucked up probability is. After all, if you leave a monkey at a typewriter long enough it’ll write the complete works of shakespeare. Maybe out there there’s a monkey writing Ianto’s own shit show of a life story, complete with smart ass commentary, paradoxical events, and hysterical laughing fits.

In hindsight, the fact that he was alone was probably a good thing. Because if any other living soul had seen his reaction, they would think he had lost his mind.

His muscles spasmed with the effort it took him. He was doubled over, tears running down his face as he gasped for air. And somewhere in the middle of it all the laughs turned to sobs, and then he was just a man in his early twenties, knowing that he had missed his chance to die.

It was so different from the hustle and bustle of the first time he was here. Now there was silence. He was the last living thing on the entire satellite. At first, he’d held out hope that some of the contestants gathered on the lower floor were still alive. 

They weren’t. 

The bodies were a gruesome pile against the bay doors. The panicked crush that had been claiming lives when Ianto and Jack had been there had created the base layer of broken and bruised corpses. Their limbs were twisted grotesquely. One skull had been crushed in the fray. Part of Ianto wanted to be sick. The other part fell numb to the carnage. He’d already had to pick himself over the bodies of the people who had fought with him hundreds of floors above. The man, the one with a crush (Ianto couldn’t even remember his name), had been sliced in half by the sharp metal on the top of the barricade. That had been the worst he’d seen.

Although, he hadn’t allowed himself to look at Tazene. He’d laid his jacket over her like a shroud.

He hadn’t really expected to find anyone down here. He knew that the Daleks had gotten here first, had had a full twenty minutes to murder every last human while he had been fighting upstairs. It still hurt to have his hopes completely crushed. 

At least, the practical part of him said, he had found the kitchens on the way down the satellite. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten, and even the tangy stench of blood permeating the air couldn’t stop his stomach from growling painfully.

None of the food he could find was even remotely close to looking like food he was used to, though after over a year flying to planets nowhere like earth, he’d become a lot less particular about what he ate. So, after he forced down something that he thought was this century’s version of a cheeseburger (even though it didn’t resemble one in any way except the vibe he got from it), he washed down his meal with a suspiciously green liquid that tasted like cherries and chili. It was a lot nicer than he expected, and he shoved a couple extra bottles in his pockets, along with some unidentifiable snacks, before continuing on his mission.

It wasn’t too hard to retrace his and Jack’s steps back through the satellite, even if his memory of the day was hazy with adrenaline. He knew one thing for a fact: Jack hadn’t been wearing his Vortex Manipulator in that elevator. Which meant, hopefully, that it was still on the satellite. And that was his only ticket off of this haunted spaceship. 

His first stop was the jail cell. Ianto was half expecting to find it here – it would be the simplest solution – but when had anything ever been easy for him. He wasn’t expecting to find printed copies of their mugshots on a desk. They were lined up, only polaroid sized and pinned to the front of empty files. Three peas in a pod, missing from any government data banks. Jack’s, then Ianto’s, then the Doctor’s. The time stamps on them were from less than twelve hours earlier. To Ianto, it felt like years. 

If anyone had been there to ask, as he neatly creased the images of Jack and the Doctor down the middle so they would fold small enough to fit in his wallet, he would argue that they would simply be helpful when he got off this satellite, to be able to show people who he was looking for. Maybe then he’d have more of a chance to get back home. Back to the Tardis. It would’ve been harder to explain why he folded Jack’s so his face was still visible, why he slotted it behind the clear plastic window he used to use for his Torchwood ID.

The Vortex Manipulator, however, was nowhere to be found. 

It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. A scrap of leather on a five hundred story satellite. A scrap of leather that had been plugged into a terminal when they were looking for Rose. Had Jack ever gotten it back? Ianto couldn’t remember, but it seemed as though that was his best bet.

Two hours later and the Vortex Manipulator was disconnected from the terminal. The back panel – that Ianto didn’t even know existed – was hanging loose on its hinges. Wires, more wires than looked like they’d fit into the small wristband. There was no way it was usable in this condition, but he’d found it. The first part of his plan was done.

The second step of his not-thought-through plan was a lot harder, and was probably, upon closer inspection of the Vortex Manipulator, actually about ten steps disguised in a trenchcoat. Even so, Ianto had to try. He had seen Jack work his Vortex Manipulator hundreds of times, but never for something so big. He usually used it like an over glorified smartphone, like the one the Doctor had given Ianto, the one that had been fried by the Dalek’s shot. Except for maybe once, back in 1944, Ianto had never seen it be used for time travel. He’s heard the way the Doctor scoffed about it, calling it cheap and dirty. Ianto knew he was taking a risk to even attempt to use it; for all he knew, it was coded to only respond to Jack’s DNA. But he didn’t have many other options left.

Now, if he could only work out how all the wires fit back inside it…

Ianto, as always, kept his watch meticulously tuned. He stopped working on the VM every few hours, when he heard the seconds start to slow. Ianto would put down the makeshift soldering iron he devised from scrap metal, reorganize his scraps of wire so he wouldn’t lose his train of thought, and sit back against the wall. He used this time as a snack break, occasionally as a reminder to get some shut eye. But it was mostly for him to wind up his pocket watch, make sure it was still perfectly counting each second that had passed since he fell through the rift. 

Each second he had been alone.

It had taken him three days to get all the wires back to their original connections. Three days of winding his watch. The tips of his fingers were starting to callous from the small burns and electrical shocks. He’d found out that Jack had an entire playlist of Frank Sinatra downloaded to his VM, along with a video of Ianto and Rose drunkenly singing. It looked like it was taken in Barcelona, but Ianto was pretty sure he’d remember singing Toxic while Rose cartwheeled into a bush. No matter how smashed he had been.

The VM had been working perfectly for a few hours now, no sparking or rebooting. Ianto still hadn’t worked up the nerve to try and teleport with it. But he had worked out how to hack into the satellite lights. He slept better in the dark. 

It was a dreamless sleep, the kind that – once you were awake – didn’t feel like you’d slept at all. Merely skipped forward a few hours in your life. And that was if you were woken naturally. Ianto was dragged out, kicking and screaming, from his much needed rest. The building whoosh that had once been so comforting to Ianto now made him restless. It plagued him, bringing back the memories that had drifted to his subconscious when he’d been resurrected. 

Except he hadn't been  _ resurrected _ . He would’ve had to have died to be brought back. And he hadn’t died. He hadn’t. He’d just been knocked out. Even with his brain muddled from sleep, he knew he had to cling to this belief. Without it, he didn’t know how he’d cope. 

The whooshes got louder and louder. Until all at once, they stopped. There was some sort of light filtering in through his eyelids, a light that hadn’t been there before. A door creaked, and a breeze rustled over Ianto’s cheek like a soft caress. He sighed softly, still drifting in that peaceful place between sleep and wake. There were no dead bodies in this no man’s land, just the soft feeling of a hand made of air on his cheek.

Then the touch was gone. 

He was just drifting back off when something landed hard on his shoulder. Then there were warm fingers pressed to the side of his neck. Ianto sat up with a start.

His head collided with something hard. Something that made a choked noise of pain. 

Ianto’s eyes flew open. Crouching on his haunches in front of him, one hand clutching his nose, the other still clinging to Ianto’s shoulder, Jack stared back at him. 

Ianto blinked.

Jack was still there. 

“Jack?”

All the air seemed to rush from Jack’s lungs, along with the tension in his spine. He collapsed onto his knees and Ianto found his face pressed to Jack’s shoulder. “I knew it. You’re okay.” A hand came up to tangle in the short hair at the nape of Ianto’s neck.

Ianto, his sleep-logged reflexes quickly recovering, wrapped his arms around Jack’s back. He wasn’t in the same clothes as at the battle. The black leather pants were replaced with worn jeans; the lightweight jacket was replaced with a warm winter coat. How long had he been gone? Why had he left?

“Would be better if you’d let me breathe,” Ianto huffed out with a laugh. Jack was  _ okay _ . The fear that had been niggling in the back of his brain that maybe he and the Doctor had been captured was gone. (The larger fear that Jack had run off and abandoned him again, even if Ianto had practically made him, was also quenched.)

The arms around Ianto loosened slightly. A shaky break in Ianto’s ear. “Sorry. Sorry.” 

Jack pulled even further back, enough that they could look at each other. Jack’s calloused fingertips ran all over Ianto’s face, brushing the delicate skin under his eyes, the two day old stubble across his jaw. “I thou– we all– I saw you get  _ hit _ .”

That explained the monitor Ianto had found, still streaming the live security footage from the corridor. At least he hadn’t pissed himself when he’d gotten shot. He’d heard that some people did that when they died. But then again, he hadn’t died. 

Still, would’ve been embarrassing.

“God, Ianto. We thought you were dead.” 

Ianto reached up, wrapping his fingers gently around Jack’s wrists. He didn’t know if he meant to pull Jack’s hands away or keep them there. “Surprise.” Ianto smiled ruefully. “Could you double check though, next time you think I’m dead? I’d rather not get stuck on another spaceship.” 

Ianto shifted slightly. His joke obviously hadn’t landed by the expression on Jack’s face. 

“How long were you waiting?”

“Three days,” a voice said from the direction of the Tardis. “Sorry about that, meant to have only been gone a few minutes. But you know how it is, new face, new console. Her settings are all back to default.” 

A lanky man in a striped brown suit that matched his hair stood leaning in the doorway, one converse clad heel kicking back against the corner. For such a relaxed stance, it was a jarringly nervous tick.

“Who the fuck are you?” The words were out before Ianto could stop them. He usually tried not to be rude to complete strangers, especially ones standing between him and his best option out of here. At least it had the plus of making Jack snigger.

The man frowned, then he snapped his fingers and his face brightened. “Of course! You haven’t seen the new face! What do you think? Dashing isn’t it? Good to be rid of the ears, although I still wish I was ginger.” 

“You…? Ginger…?  _ What? _ ” 

Jack cleared his throat. “Um, yeah… Some things have changed while you were gone. That’s the Doctor.”

“No. It’s not.” Ianto spoke slowly like Jack was a child.

“Ianto Jones. The man from through the Rift. You befriended a pterodactyl whose bones survive for millions of years in a museum across the galaxy.”

“She’s a Pteranodon.” 

The Doctor grinned. “Shot by a Dalek and you haven’t changed a bit.” He straightened, walking over to Ianto and Jack. A quick wave of the familiar sonic screwdriver cemented the fact that the man was who he said he was. “Question is: how did you survive the Daleks?”

Ianto shrugged. “Don’t know. The shot just knocked me out for a few minutes. Then I woke up and they were all just… ash.” Ianto ran a hand through his unwashed hair, grimacing slightly at the texture. “How did you kill them all?”

The Doctor pondered Ianto’s answer for a moment, eyes narrowing. He seemed to sense the truth in Ianto’s words however, as the Doctor was soon back to grinning. “Good old Rose. She’s home now, Christmas dinner with the Tyler’s. If we hurry we can be back in time for crackers.” And with that, in true Doctor fashion, the Doctor turned on his heel and strode back into the Tardis. 

Ianto turned to Jack, but his gaze was still on this new Doctor. “How…?”

Jack sighed and shook his head. “Don’t ask.” Jack hauled Ianto to his feet. “I met Jackie Tyler though. Just as ferocious as you said. She didn’t like me much.” 

Ianto chuckled slightly. “She didn’t appreciate your flirting? I’m surprised.”

Jack’s smile became tense. “I wasn’t exactly in the mood for flirting.”

Ianto watched Jack shift on his feet for a few seconds before he realised something. “Everyone thought I was dead. Why did you come back for a dead man?”

“I didn’t– I couldn’t–” Jack started and stopped a few times before finally settling for: “Good thing I’m a stubborn dick when I get an idea in my head.”

Ianto raised an eyebrow.

“I thought I saw you move,” Jack said quietly. “And even if you hadn't – I wasn’t about to leave you on a satellite.”

Ianto smiled softly. “Good thing you’re a stubborn dick.”

The sounds of celebrations that had been filtering in through the walls stopped the instant Ianto walked into the living room. The dining table had been set up in the middle of the room where the coffee table usually was. There wasn't a tree, but the remains of said coffee table was piled in the corner with some decorations perched precariously on it. He decided he wasn’t going to ask about that.

Especially not with everyone staring at him in shock. 

Mickey's mouth was wide open with shock, half chewed potato falling out back onto his plate. Ianto resisted the urge to pull a face. 

The entire table was laden with food. There were two extra plates set and although Jackie, Rose, and Mickey had plates piled high with food, five crackers were sitting and waiting for the missing members of the family to return. 

Jackie had been dishing out the cauliflower cheese when Ianto stepped in behind Jack and the Doctor. The spoon hovered over the bowl until the shock set in and she dropped it. The sound of metal hitting ceramic echoed over the Christmas music playing softly. The sound lurched time back to full speed. 

Rose dropped her own cutlery. Her arms were wrapped around Ianto’s neck barely before the knife hit the floor. Ianto stumbled back as he caught her, but soon he was hugging her back just as tight. His neck was wet with her tears.

“I’ve never been so happy for Jack to prove me wrong.” She was grinning brightly as she pulled away. 

Ianto barely had time to breath in between explanations of what had happened and happy reunions with Mickey and Jackie. Everything passed as a blue and before he knew it, Jackie was shoving him into a chair besides Jack. The table was cramped now, all the plates moved up to make room for the extra guest. They’d had to move the tray of potatoes onto the side board to make room. Ianto’s elbows knocked with Rose and Jack’s as he tried to eat. When they’d pulled the crackers, (Jackie had pulled a spare out of thin air for Ianto) Mickey had nearly punched the Doctor in the eye. He claimed, loudly and profusely, that it was an accident but when Ianto had caught his eye afterwards, Mickey had winked cheekily.

It was chaos. Loud and jarring after three days alone. But it was his family.

He’d never could’ve dreamed of a better Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH and that's the end of our Christmas (and New Years, and entirety of January really) special! Our boys are finally reunited, and even better... WE CAN POST REMI"S NEXT ORIGINAL EPISODE (this is my fav one written yet and I cannot WAIT to see all y'all's reactions!)  
> Thank you all so much for your comments, I know I'm quite bad at replying to them but I try my best and I read every one (usually more than once). They really make my day!  
> As always, check us out on tumblr @garknessandbones and @thirteeninafez


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